Incoherent, indeed
by Setarip
Summary: Modern AU: A cute little oneshot where teen-Liz's hormones go a little crazy... Rated T to be safe.


**A/N: WOOHOO! I HAS RETURNED! And it's about time.**

**Ok...so oneshot is a little random, but I thought it worked. For school, I had to describe a normal middle-school activity through someone other than myself. I dunno...I think I had a bit too much chocolate that night, or _something_, but my "normal middle-school activity" was a super-crush. Afterwards, I thought it would work well with Pirates, and since I've been desperate to post something, what the heck!**

**A warning though: this _wasn't_ written for Liz and Will directly. The characters may seem a bit OOC, even if I did tone it down some. Liz appears quite smitten, and Will completely at ease...which is basically the opposite of their true characters. But you know what? It's ALTERNATE UNIVERSE, so in this crazy world, Liz has wacko hormones, and Will has a bit of self confidence.**

**OKOKOK, almost done. I'd just like to say this is for all my friends at HTR, just because I miss all of you, Tay for making me write some (gah, Secret Santa stuff), and Kaitlyn for inspiring me to get off my lazy butt to actually do something. Oh, and Stephenie Meyer, who made it possible for a girl to be _utterely obsessed _and still have some dignity about her. **

**Right. Moving on. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Pirates related. **

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It was exam week.

I slammed the door of my mom's SUV harshly, turning from the green car to the gates of hell – a.k.a. my middle school. The excessive weight of the school's glass doors did nothing for my foul mood, and the permanent cheeriness of Mrs. Hidger, the school secretary, nearly put me over the edge. But it was only until I reached the cold, blank cafeteria, and my friends that seated themselves there, did the steam erupt from my ears.

"Hey Liz. What's up?" my best friend, Anamaria, asked nonchalantly, eyes staying firmly on some notes before her.

"Oh, take a _wild_ guess, genius," I replied sarcastically. A little part of me – a _very_ little part of me, one that wasn't consumed by irrational grumpiness – felt bad that I was snapping at her in such a way. But I only faltered for a brief second; Anamaria's next words were like fuel to my fiery anger.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed." Her eyes _still_ hadn't looked from the papers, but her hands were raised in a defensive position. I even thought I saw those little black eyebrows of hers shoot up. Wow, gee thanks.

Several retorts ran through my mind, each more fierce and cruel than the next. But instinctively I knew that I would regret my words later, so instead of replying, I just huffed, glared, and sat on the hard blue bench of the lunch table.

I sighed, the red haze of anger dissolving from my mind. Now that I was partly sane again, my regret and guilt were rivaling my anger. I adopted my own defensive position – head rested on my folded arms – and said _very_ quietly, "Sorry Ana. Didn't mean it. I was up for a while last night, studying for science. You know how exam week gets me."

And it was true. Every last week of each quarter, I would go all out and study. Because of this, my diet was pitiful – mostly crackers, power bars, and soda – and my sleep time dwindled to the point of nonexistence. Even my personal life was shoved carelessly to the side – my phone was usually turned off, and I avoided the computer and all its lovely AIM and website glories.

But you couldn't exactly blame me. My dad was tough with grades, never accepting anything less than perfect. My mom had been my buffer for a while, insisting, "As long as you try your hardest," that everything was fine. All that went down the drain when my mom died of breast cancer. Now, it's just me, my dad, and a whole lot of work.

Anamaria's dark eyes finally rested on me. Her smile was rueful, but her tone was light. "Why don't you just fail, like the rest of us? And can you _please_ tell me the answer to number three of the history homework? I don't know who the _heck_ Lafayette is."

My mouth twisted into a grim smile. "You know what would happen if I failed. My dad would-" I drew my pointer finger across my throat, making gruesome choking noises.

Anamaria looked apologetically at me, and patted my shoulder. Then, she just stared at me expectantly.

Oh. Right. She asked about history homework. Hey wait, we didn't _have_ history homework last night.

"What are you doing, Ana? We didn't have any homework in History." I chuckled. "And you accuse _me_ of overworking."

She didn't laugh with me. Oh _no…_

"Um, yeah we did, Liz. Remember, the graded packet…?" The look in her eyes clearly questioned my sanity. _Elizabeth Swann_ forgetting a _graded homework assignment?_ No-sir-ee.

Perfect. _Just perfect!_ Now I was going to have to face that _stupid _history class and not have that one _dumb_ assignment! The icing on the cake of my life.

I nearly burst into tears I was so upset. Nearly. I managed to hold it together by burying my head in my arms and biting my bottom lip until little droplets of blood tickled my tongue. I imagined life without school, without grades, without fathers who cared too much…

My little "happy place" (as I lovingly dubbed it) consumed me so much that I didn't realize when the first bell for class rang. And, of course, my friends didn't bother to poke me in the shoulder, either (granted, I must say that it's a dangerous thing to poke me in this state. I guess I couldn't entirely blame them). I would've stayed happily oblivious if it wasn't for _his _voice, and _his_ strong, warm hand on my back.

"Um, Elizabeth was it? The bell rang. If you don't hurry, you'll be late for class." The hand prodded gently.

My head snapped up, and immediately all my dark thoughts left me. My happy place left me. In fact, everything that was coherent in my mind left me. Everything but gushing, mushy thoughts centering on the boy in front of me.

Yes, _him_. The one with the dark, curly hair, the strong but lean body, the sweet nature, the award winning smile. William Turner, the cutest, most wonderful boy in the eighth grade. I must have been crushing on him for months now.

And here he was, _inches_ in front of me, _hand on my back!_

I was incoherent , indeed.

My silence must have worried him, for a little line etched itself between his eyes. Very cute. "Elizabeth? Are you alright? I said you'll be late for class." He spoke the words slowly, as if to a young child. He must have been wondering if I was mentally stable.

Finally, _finally_, my thoughts returned to my head, and I had enough sense to start blazing a bright shade of red. I jumped up, surprising him, and gathered my few belongings – backpack, lunchbox, jacket, binder. I smoothed my shirt and adjusted the pile that was in my hands before I allowed myself to meet his eye once more.

I only stuttered for a moment this time. "Thanks Will. I don't know where I was, but it certainly wasn't here. You saved me." I gave him a lopsided sort of grin, all the while thinking to myself, _That's right! He did save you. He's your hero!_

The smile he answered with was blinding. All those perfect, white teeth lined up together, catching the light could _really_ do something to someone's retinas. "No problem," he chuckled. "I know how you feel. I'm usually not here at school, either. Today is a rarity."

He – the most perfect, the most dazzling, of all gods – _he_ was joking with me! Talking with me! All I could do was smile and blush even harder.

"Here, let me take this," he offered, motioning towards my jacket and binder. Oh my, he's chivalrous too! "I'll take you to homeroom." He took the items and held them effortlessly, perfectly, flawlessly. So different from how I had been fumbling with them, trying to keep them from slipping and falling to the ground.

We – oh my goodness, _we!_ – started walking down the hallway to the right. He led the way, his perfect stride slowly, but surely, leaving me behind.

I stared at the colorful posters plastered on the brick wall of my school. Was it me, or did the corny jokes now sound just a tad funnier? And the artwork posted above the blue lockers was that much better. Oh, and did I mention how much I loved that school courtyard?

Oh wait. _The school courtyard_. Damn. I realized we were going the wrong way. My homeroom – obviously unlike his – was in the other direction. There goes my mood.

"Um," I croaked out, unsure. "Uh, Will? I have Mrs. Weber. It's in the other direction." I awkwardly stopped, waiting for him to do the same.

He turned, and his lovely face was facing me again. Glowing? Shining? Something bright and amazing.

There was a moment of uneasy silence, of my crush-tastic incoherency and his chivalry-gone-wrong embarrasment. We both stood, red creeping slyly up our necks and cheeks (did I mention how _cute_ he looks red?), staring at each other.

I broke the silence, finally. I realized that I couldn't ask for him to walk me all the way back to my real homeroom and decided it was best for me to just grab my stuff and leave with an apology. My good mood – understatement of the year – would run its course quickly, I knew, but that was inevitable.

"Um, here. I'll take those," I mumbled, and he jumped slightly, instinctively pulling the bundle in his arms away from me. I reached for them again, more insistently this time, until his voice, a perfect tone, stopped me.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"My homeroom is that way," I repeated, glancing back down the long hallway. "I'll take my stuff. You'll be late as well, if you don't hurry."

His smile turned mocking. "What kind of gentleman leads a fine lady _away_ from her destination then leaves her on her own? Not me," he declared. "Let's go."

It took me a minute to realize that I had to _move_ again, because of the way my mind was replaying the way he said "fine lady" over and over again. Like a broken record, but not at all annoying.

My small feet and legs – no match for his – hurried to catch up to him. "You really don't have to do this," I insisted, but only half-heartedly. Yes, he really had to do this. Oh my God, yes.

He threw me a glance that said the same thing I was thinking.

"You'll be late!" I protested. Stop it, girl! When Fate hands you a super-hot guy, _don't throw him away!_

"Psh," he answered. "Late smate." Then his pace slackened, and he looked worriedly towards me, as well as sort of…embarrassed? "Unless you don't want me to…" he trailed off, slowing even more.

See? SEE what you did, Liz? "No! I mean, no. Well, ok. Ack, I mean, only if you want to," I sputtered out. My ears turned hot enough to make eggs sizzle.

His pace quickened after that, and I took it as a yes. The rest of the hallway was spent in silence and stolen glances. Mine were adoring looks, ones of envy and undying affection. His were of curiosity and a bit of amusement.

Take what you can get, right?

When we finally reached my doorway, my heart wrenched. This was goodbye, goodbye to the only cute guy who's ever talked to me. Goodbye to the only guy I've seriously liked. Goodbye to my gentleman. I could already feel my mood plummeting to the dark, deep depths of my stomach.

He silently handed my stuff back to me, and I mumbled a thank you in response. There was another moment of awkwardness, where neither of us were sure what exactly to do.

"Well, I guess I can go…" he blurted.

"I'll be going then…." I sputtered.

We talked simultaneously. And then we laughed simultaneously.

When we quieted, I paused, and then said, "Really, thank you. You didn't have to, Will." I relished speaking his name. It would probably be the last time, or at least the last time like this.

Will stuffed his hands in his pockets, the first time I'd ever seen him without his flippant humor. He seemed bashful now, ashamed, embarrassed. "It was fine. I was happy to do it." He glanced at me through his long lashes, and my heart accelerated in a way that couldn't be healthy.

Another moment of silence passed before I decided to just _go._ I turned, shifting the weight in my arms so I could grasp the doorknob with one hand. Just as I was about to open it, he stopped me.

"Wait," he called, nervous as ever. Why? "Wait, Elizabeth."

I turned with a curious look in my eyes.

"Um…listen, I know it's exam week, and you must be swamped too, but I was wondering if you'd like to study with me." For once, he didn't meet my gaze. Instead, he focused on an unimportant point on the wall behind me.

It was amazing that I could register that, though, because his latest question dominated the majority of my thoughts. The majority of my _being_. Oh my God! Will Turner, _Will Turner_, actually asked _me_ out _on a study date!_

I collected myself before I frightened him. "Yeah, sure. That'd be awesome," I replied, clearing my throat in the middle.

Relief immediately flooded his features, and his carefree, beautiful smile was back in place. "Great! Tomorrow, five, my place?"

"Sounds good," I answered, spirits shooting above and beyond. And then beyond some more.

"Cool. See you then." And he left with a wave.

I felt deliriously high as I finally opened the classroom door. Or, at least, too happy to notice – or care – about the glare Mrs. Weber was giving me.

I couldn't ignore her words quite so easily, though. "Miss Swann! You are five minutes late!"

However, ignoring words and paying attention to words are two very different things. "I know…" I trailed off, dreamily.

The old woman stiffened, obviously insulted but unsure what to do about it. I didn't usually act this way, which added to her internal dilemma. She finally just huffed and continued to recite the morning announcements I'd interrupted with my entrance.

The bell for first class rang, a joyous sound. I walked – floated – to my locker, and, amazingly, I opened it after only one crack at the lock. Usually it took me four or five times. But today…today it was perfect. Like everything else.

Suddenly, as I gathered my books for first period, I realized that this week, exam week, didn't seem so bad after all. All thanks to a simple walk in the hall.

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**A/N: TAADAA! Please review! :D**


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